The New Norm
The mad streets roam alone,
the mice people scuttle, just scuttle
lest they be found separately.
Bedlam slips its moorings,
boats are rocked.
Across America the inmates strut
out of the holes in their heads
pick a victim, kick down the heedless,
and the police watch their wristwatches
waiting for the shift to begin,
but none show up,
only the pavement patients,
and the sick souls who need help
to die.
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